Dangerous and Stupid
Can we talk about Gerard saying he had a detective agency? Because I'm still thinking about it and shaking my head.
Also, I forgot to tell you about my spectacular second viewing of Star Trek Into Darkness, and how it was entirely due to the audience in the theater. Seriously, this woman next to us had a meltdown anytime something slightly suspenseful happened, like, full on haunted house SCREAM when someone got punched. Two rows back was EXTREMELY LOUD POPCORN BAG DUDE who sounded like he had a roll of aluminum foil wrapped around his movie snack. Best of all was the woman directly behind me, who, when John Harrison revealed his actual name, said, incredulously, 'WHO?"
I'm having a very Done With Office Culture day. Or, week. Or something. I don't want to soothe anyone's ego, I don't want to switch the schedule for one person's convenience. I do not want to be CCed on emails where someone tries to undermine my authority. I do not want to take anymore webinars to learn about software changes that only benefit the IT people. I don't want to have to do the job of an IT person unless someone pays me their salary, or to have someone tell me I can have my full time hours be the same amount of hours as other departments but only if we cut a position, because, that's fair, right? Why pay me more when you can....not! Really, this is a library, it's not even that much of an office, but I'm still full up with all of this careful negotiation of meaningless things.
Mostly it grates on me more because I want so badly to be spending all my "work" time writing stories. I feel like the half an hour I spent writing in the studio writing this morning is paltry. There are WORLDS I could have written, thousands of words of worlds and scenes and characters getting stabbed on altars, and I know I've got to work for a living, but I want - a primal scream kind of want, a best beautiful heart dream kind of want - to make that living writing stories. I sneak in notes and daydreams and sometimes a couple hundred words in between meetings and budget reviews and showing people how e-books work, but it's like I'm telling the flaming heart inside of me, "shhhh, keep it down, we've got to clock in the hours" and my skin is staring to blister. I go home and write while dinner is cooking, and read, and walk, and play with the chickens and write some more, and I want to be that person who finishes her novel staying up writing through the night, but I need sleep. And I'm not talking about one novel I just need to bang out, I've got creepy dudes on islands, and lesbian werewolves, and umbrella repair shops, and rockstar dads in love, and rogue exorcists, and so many stories banging in my head like a marching band of wooden spoons on pots and pans. I know I need to be patient, and I need to keep working and keep pushing myself and to just keep writing, but on days like today, I want to let my whole self become engulfed, to write like it's my job and have it be.
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Also, I forgot to tell you about my spectacular second viewing of Star Trek Into Darkness, and how it was entirely due to the audience in the theater. Seriously, this woman next to us had a meltdown anytime something slightly suspenseful happened, like, full on haunted house SCREAM when someone got punched. Two rows back was EXTREMELY LOUD POPCORN BAG DUDE who sounded like he had a roll of aluminum foil wrapped around his movie snack. Best of all was the woman directly behind me, who, when John Harrison revealed his actual name, said, incredulously, 'WHO?"
I'm having a very Done With Office Culture day. Or, week. Or something. I don't want to soothe anyone's ego, I don't want to switch the schedule for one person's convenience. I do not want to be CCed on emails where someone tries to undermine my authority. I do not want to take anymore webinars to learn about software changes that only benefit the IT people. I don't want to have to do the job of an IT person unless someone pays me their salary, or to have someone tell me I can have my full time hours be the same amount of hours as other departments but only if we cut a position, because, that's fair, right? Why pay me more when you can....not! Really, this is a library, it's not even that much of an office, but I'm still full up with all of this careful negotiation of meaningless things.
Mostly it grates on me more because I want so badly to be spending all my "work" time writing stories. I feel like the half an hour I spent writing in the studio writing this morning is paltry. There are WORLDS I could have written, thousands of words of worlds and scenes and characters getting stabbed on altars, and I know I've got to work for a living, but I want - a primal scream kind of want, a best beautiful heart dream kind of want - to make that living writing stories. I sneak in notes and daydreams and sometimes a couple hundred words in between meetings and budget reviews and showing people how e-books work, but it's like I'm telling the flaming heart inside of me, "shhhh, keep it down, we've got to clock in the hours" and my skin is staring to blister. I go home and write while dinner is cooking, and read, and walk, and play with the chickens and write some more, and I want to be that person who finishes her novel staying up writing through the night, but I need sleep. And I'm not talking about one novel I just need to bang out, I've got creepy dudes on islands, and lesbian werewolves, and umbrella repair shops, and rockstar dads in love, and rogue exorcists, and so many stories banging in my head like a marching band of wooden spoons on pots and pans. I know I need to be patient, and I need to keep working and keep pushing myself and to just keep writing, but on days like today, I want to let my whole self become engulfed, to write like it's my job and have it be.
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth (
comments)